


Life was Full of Surprises -  and Oliver Queen was the Best One

by aponderingcharming



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oliver/Felicity - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Season 2, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22308541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aponderingcharming/pseuds/aponderingcharming
Summary: Set sometime in Season 2. After a rough night, Oliver gets drunk and Felicity is left to take care of him. After some fluff and a heartwarming moment of honesty, Felicity notes a shift in their relationship.
Relationships: Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 11
Kudos: 161





	Life was Full of Surprises -  and Oliver Queen was the Best One

**Author's Note:**

> I found this fanfic - and I think it might have been the very first one I ever wrote for Olicity - and thought I'd share it! Enjoy!

Tequila.

That was the only thing she could smell off him as she lugged him down to the Foundry. And boy was it strong.

Felicity didn't even know he drank tequila.

Then again, after the number of beers he had guzzled, she supposed anything went.

It was a tough night. A serial killer they had been tracking for weeks finally fell into their laps, and the Arrow was on the case like a flash. It was a simple enough mission, but Oliver underestimated the target and in a fierce battle between the two, the man had put several bullets into the three girls he held hostage before turning the gun on himself.

Felicity hadn't seen him so despondent in a long time. Sure, he was the type of guy to turn every victory into some kind of moral defeat, but this was different. Not even her incessant babbling about how she had got her skirt caught in the bathroom door and her mini battle for freedom that included kicking the door with her heels and in the process, leaving a number of pointed notches in the framework, worked a crack of a smile off him. That made her heart drop. Though she'd never admit aloud, she lived for the light that broke out on his face whenever she said something stupid. She loved it, even.

No! _No, no_ , not _loved_ it because saying the 'L' word would by association mean that she loved him and no, she did not love Oliver Queen. Well she did as a friend and she supposed you love your friends but their friendship was platonic – very platonic.

The most platonic.

Nope, no lingering feelings or longing here.

Not even in the slightest.

Oh who the hell was she kidding?! She was desperately in love with the man. She had been since the moment he came to her with that ridiculous story about energy drinks and syringes. God, his lies were so bad.

Anyway, Digg went home to Lyla, feeling the weight of the night too, leaving a distressed Oliver who felt the urge to drown his thoughts in the endless supply of alcohol literally above them. He didn't invite Felicity and she didn't ask to join him. Instead, she stayed by her computers, running searches and keeping check on him. When he began to fall over his limbs, she knew it was time to intervene before someone else did.

His arm hung lazily over her shoulders, the sheer weight of it causing her to lean to the side as attempted to descend the steps as gracefully as possible. Why did she decide against slipping into her flats earlier? Because she was stupid, that's why. Needing to tighten her hold on him before he tumbled out of her embrace and head first down some steel steps and possible death – yet another unwelcome thought to enter her mind, she clasped her hands around his middle, ignoring the way he chuckled and pressed himself into her, his mouth skimming her temple and diving into her hair every now and again. As if he wasn't distracting enough…

"Oliver, I need you to cooperate with me," she ordered, ducking her head away from the stench that seeped from his every pore. She could safely say it was the first time she ever willingly moved away from him. Tequila clearly saturated his usual magnetism.

"I'll do whatever you ask, Ms Smoak," he slurred before cracking into a childish giggle. Well at least one of them was having a good time.

"Now who's the one who's making inappropriate remarks," she laughed breathily, realizing that she was losing energy rapidly. It didn't help that her partner was gargantuan either. His frame practically smothered her own as she tried and failed – yet again- to get him to move his feet. She groaned. "Come on Oliver, you can do this. You know how to go down stairs."

"That's not the only thing I know how to go down -"

"Oliver!" she scorned, managing to smack him in the chest and not drop him in the process. She called that a success. Despite herself, she blushed, feeling a hell of a lot warmer than she did a few minutes ago. Shaking out any mental images that had made their way into her mind, she tugged at him and pulled him down another step, hoping he wouldn't say anything else because she was sure she'd end up dropping him. "We're nearly there, come on."

Something in her tone must have sparked something within him because he listened, taking sloppy and heavy steps that felt more like little jumps, his whole body moving and shuddering as he landed on the metal. Felicity barely stayed on her feet. It was a miracle that she hadn't collapsed under his colossal figure. To be honest she imagined being pinned under his body under completely different circumstances.

"So did I," he said, his voice huskier than usual and she cringed, cursing her broken brain to mouth filter. Why couldn't she just be a regular person who could keep her thoughts to herself?

"I like it when you say what you think," he contributed solemnly all of a sudden.

Damn it.

"Not many people tell me exactly what they think – they just baby me, or talk behind my back. But you," he paused, his alcohol-glazed eyes searching her, as if all the answers to life's questions were buried in her depths, "you never do. You're re…remar…remarkable," he mumbled dejectedly, his rush of elation crashing instantaneously into full-blown pity.

Another step.

Only a few more to tackle. She could do this. She was Felicity Smoak. She graduated at the top of her class at MIT, she could create her own operating systems and hack the most prolific servers in the country; she was the Arrow's partner.

So she could definitely carry him safely down to their base.

"Thank you for remarking on it," she smiled back, recalling one of their early conversations. Trying to steady her breath intake, she nudged his shoulder up just to alleviate the pressure momentarily. It was a brief respite but it was enough to keep her determination on point. Maybe cancelling that gym membership wasn't such a good idea after all. She took a mental note to re-join the one around the corner from her apartment first thing in the morning.

Her lack of fitness was laughable.

Oliver, seemingly remembering that he was very drunk, chortled again, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, his air hot on her cheek. She gulped. "You smell pretty!" he half-yelled, forcing her to jerk back at the sound. "Like strawberries and cream. I like that about you."

God, she wasn't able for this. It was one thing to keep her feelings for Oliver locked in a box and pushed to the side, never to be opened when she was around him (though she was all too aware that her broken filter sometimes leaked vital information), but it was extremely difficult to keep herself in line when he was complimenting her. Even if he was inebriated to no end.

"Shampoo: it can work miracles," she said with a nervous giggle. "Though I'm running out of it and I couldn't find any at the store this week so I'm probably gonna have to find some other one to try and I really hope it doesn't end up like the barbeque fiasco of '09 because that has been permanently ingrained in my memory and I don't think any of my friends have let me live it down. I mean, someone had left the sauce in the bathroom and I didn't have my glasses on and well…" she trailed off when she caught wind of his penetrating gaze. He was swaying but his expression was unmoved; serious. Then again, his expression was nearly always frozen in a perpetual state of earnestness. Yet, she softened under his look, like she was entranced by him and the way his eyes appraised her as though she was the only thing in the room.

No one had ever had that effect on her.

"Felicity." He said her name in that tone he only reserved for her; you know, the one that pretty much made her stomach flip-flop as if the sound alone could reach inside of her. "No," he continued, shaking his head defiantly, "you'll always smell like that."

Not really understanding what he was trying to say, Felicity tilted her head to the side and asked, "Like strawberries and cream?"

"No." He smiled genuinely, the lines etched into his brow smoothing. "Familiar. Safe. Like I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

The blonde blew out air incredulously, trying to get her bearings. _He's drunk, he's doesn't mean it. Does he?_

But remaining calm and collect was not something the IT girl had mastered and while her brain was all of a muddle, her body had involuntary crumpled under the man's hold and had decided to throw both her and her boss down the remaining steps onto the cold, hard ground of the Foundry.

It was a cacophony of noise; the clanging of metal, the whooshes of breath as bodies collided with hard surfaces, the squeals of a terrified blonde girl echoed around the space, making it feel as though they were falling into oblivion.

And then it was silent.

Deep down she knew she wasn't dead but for a split-second, due to her overwhelming embarrassment, Felicity wished she was. She had basically just flung Oliver Queen, CEO at Queen's Consolidated, billionaire, the Arrow, down a flight of stairs.

Okay it was only a few steps but still.

Bracing herself, she turned her head to the side, weirdly enjoying the coolness of the floor against her face, and took in his slumped figure next to her. His eyes were closed and he looked almost peaceful, and not for the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the thought of waking up beside him every morning, feeling his strong, warm embrace around her lithe frame as they just lay there, unwilling to face the world just yet. Lost in their own little slither of peace.

However, she quickly snapped that thought away considering Oliver wasn't actually asleep but probably knocked out with the fall or the alcohol – or both. There was zero romance to be found in the scene in front of her.

"Oliver?" she whispered, though she was unsure why. The wisp of her voice lingered in the air like a silent prayer.

He let out a grunt, indicating his survival.

Well that was something at least.

She reached out to him and winced when she felt a sharp pain shoot through her wrist and into her fingers. She cursed under her breath. Felt like a sprain.

"Are you okay, Felicity?"

"Yep, never better. Well technically I have but it's just an expression people say and really I should have just said yes instead of rambling on."

"Felicity," he interjected, finally opening his lids, "you're hurt."

How did he do that? How did he just _know_? It was both infuriating and impressive at the same time.

"It's just my wrist."

"Let me see it." It was practically an order but she ignored him.

"You need to lie down – and I don't mean on the ground."

"Show me your wrist."

Much to his dismay, she chuckled. He might have sobered somewhat but the slur still remained. "No. Not until you're lying on the couch."

His eyebrow raised sardonically, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Are you going to join me?"

Letting her head fall back onto the ground, she groaned. She sucked in air through her teeth when her wrist brushed the ground and she brought it quickly to her chest. Pain was not her friend. She discovered that when she was four and tried to ride a bike for the first time. A skinned knee and a mountain of tears later, she put the bike in the garage and didn't take it out for three more years. It was a troubling time.

Before she had time to even swim out of her thoughts, he was rolling over to her and taking her wrist out of her grasp, cradling it in his hands as if it was a priceless artefact. He lifted it up and to the side, letting a strangled choke-laugh thing escape his lips every few seconds, before placing it delicately down back onto her chest, his hand lingering just that little bit longer than it should.

Felicity's heart skipped a beat.

She hoped he didn't hear it.

"It'll be okay," he assured, suddenly sombre again. "Just a sprain."

His mood swings were giving her whiplash.

"I suppose it was only fair that you got to play doctor with me too - oh my gosh I didn't mean to say that and I'm going to shut up now." She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could fall into a black hole.

Offering her a smile, he rose to his feet, wavering slightly, pulling her with him. "I think I'm drunk," he stated simply.

"Really, what gave it away?" she teased.

The heel of his hand came up to push against his forehead. "The headache. The need for mint choc chip ice cream. The smell."

She tittered lightly. "Yeah you do smell pretty bad."

"It's not all bad though."

"Oh?"

Now his grin was goofy and he looked years younger, as if his world hadn't been touched by the darkness that consumed him every minute of every day. Felicity would give anything to take all that pain away, to remind him that his darkness didn't define him; that he was a hero. _Her_ hero. "I'm seeing double."

Her forehead pinched. "How is that not bad?"

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I see two of you."

If his breath wasn't so disturbing she might have found that sweet.

Actually she did find that sweet. There was no 'might'.

Ugh, she was hopeless.

"I think you should lie down," she told him, pointing with her good hand to the couch she had made him buy. He was against the purchase of course, but with a little persuasion and blackmail, he eventually gave in, claiming that they'd never used it. Ha, they used it _all_ the time – and not in _that_ way! Just in the normal way people used couches. Like, for sitting and stuff.

"I think you're right." But he stayed standing in front of her and the blonde broke their stare, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Suddenly, he pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair and rubbed gentle circles on her back. It took her a few seconds to respond, her body and brain not exactly on the same wavelength, but she gingerly moved her arms to hold him to her, letting herself relax into him.

His embrace was so warm and…safe. She was pretty sure she could spend all of her time in his arms and never tire of the feel of his muscles around her, keeping her protected. It was cruel to let herself think such thoughts but blocking them and casting them aside was just too hurtful. For right now, she drank in his presence and gave herself the freedom to imagine a different reality.

"Thank you, Felicity," he murmured into her hair.

"For what?"

"For everything. For taking the risks you do every day for me. For accepting a job I know you hate and that's beneath you. For making me that coffee. For making me smile when I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do that again. For putting up with me. For keeping me grounded. For being the light in my darkness." He drew in a shaky breath. She held hers. "For being Felicity."

He didn't sound drunk anymore and the sincerity in his voice made her eyes burn, tears threatening to tumble down the contours of her face. Ignoring the shrieking throb in her wrist, she crushed him against her body, lost for another way to convey her feelings.

"Always, Oliver."

It was a promise and he knew it, pressing a soft kiss to her temple in gratitude.

They stayed there for a while longer in the silence, forgetting the rest of the world for the time being.

Felicity didn't even mind that he stank of tequila anymore.

Eventually they broke away and Oliver made his way over to the couch, making himself a bed there for the night and as he dozed off, hopefully into a dreamless sleep, Felicity couldn't help but feel a shift in their relationship. What kind of shift she wasn't sure; she just knew it was _different_.

And that was enough for her for now.

* * *

The next morning when she walked to her desk at Queen's Consolidated, her eyes crying out for more sleep, her gaze fell onto a bottle sitting sweetly next to her computer. Without really thinking about it, she took it in her hands, still careful with her now-supported wrist.

A wide smile broke out on her face, her whole body shaking with undeniable laughter.

A bottle of shampoo.

_The_ strawberries and cream shampoo, to be exact.

A note was attached to the front of it.

_So that we don't have a repeat of the barbeque incident of '09,_

_Oliver_

Her heart fluttered as her cheeks burned with affection and she looked over to his desk to meet his soft stare. To the naked eye his smile was non-existent; to her, it was blinding.

Yep, life was full of surprises – and Oliver Queen was the best one.


End file.
